Because I can't believe that Zeus would go all, oh no he didn't, just because of what Percy said. There has to be more to the story, you know? And also because I'm in an Angsty!Jason mood.

Also: wow, there's like two weeks left. *squee*

Oh yes, disclaimer. I disclaim everything. Everything, I tell you.

Proud (a Jason legacy)

"You have defended Olympus, and protected your people. You have made me very proud, son."

I have to turn away from the window at that. Really? After never talking to me, I've suddenly made him proud? Maybe if he'd said this to me three years ago, I would have believed him. But I'm more jaded now, a cynic. I know that gods don't care. How could they?

It's not like they have hearts, or anything.

"No, you aren't."

It shocks him. I guess the great god Jupiter, ruler of the freaking world, has never been spoken back to before. Not in this decade, at any rate. He opens his mouth to speak, but before he can say anything, I go on.

"You aren't proud. Why would you be? It's not like I defended Olympus for you. It's not like Bobby died for you. Or Hazel. None of us did this to make you proud. Who cares what you think?"

My survival instinct is yelling at me to shut up. Do I not want to survive? Did I just fight through that bloody war to get myself incinerated by my own dad? Do I not care anymore?

No. I don't.

"And you know what the saddest part is? I don't even know why I did it. Why I fought. It wasn't for you, and it wasn't for Olympus. Maybe at the beginning it was, but then they died. And you didn't do anything about it, did you?"

This gets to him. All this time, his face has been getting redder and redder, and now he draws himself up, puffs his chest out and says, "You impertinent boy." And I'm thinking, wow. I'm so insulted. Impertinent? Yes, I am. "You ungrateful, disgrace to the gods. We have given you life, and this is how you thank us?"

That infuriates me. I'm supposed to be grateful to them after I just fought their freaking war for them? There is no way in the damned underworld I'll be grateful to them. Not after I watched Michael die.

"Why should I be grateful to you? It's not like I didn't just fight your war for you. It's not like I didn't defend Olympus for you. It's not like I haven't spent my whole life praying and sacrificing and trying to live up to you, trying to make you proud. It's not like you never answered me, or you know, even dropped by and said, 'Hey, that new move you learned is pretty good.'"

His face right now is hilarious. All of their faces are. And I know I should be terrified, but I'm numb from the war and my head feels empty. And I'm wondering if this is what it feels like to crack, to break into millions of tiny pieces.

"You should be doing your job. You aren't here for us to worship you and grovel at your feet. You're here to protect us and help us and keep us from breaking. But you've stopped doing your job. Maybe you never did it in the first place."

I think this infuriates him the most. I bet they all expected this to be a nice little ceremony where all us puny surviving demigods bow down and kiss their feet and thank them for letting us die for them, and they could feel heroic and noble. It's a nice illusion.

Too bad it's not real.

And I'm thinking, oh well. If I suffer from death by spontaneous combustion, at least I'll die proud.

I'll admit it. I've been reading YOU by Charles Benoit. J'adore. I love.

Review, 'kay? Because I'd hate to bring out the self-esteem issues, and the sob story of how I work so hard to write this for y'all, nevermind the fact that this is totally voluntary and also it's my birthday so would you please, pretty please review?

I'm too classy for all that, y'know? And also it is not my birthday. I'm a liar. I like to lie. It makes me feel special.

Love.